Leaning closer, she whispered through gritted teeth, “You lied to me,Mr. Tate.”
His name snapped from her like a snake, and Malcolm stared at her as she ascended and yanked her hand free the moment she was able to do so. In a trice, the coachman set off and they rolled down the drive, and Malcolm stared after them, his brows pulling low. Fixed in place, he ignored the other carriages passing around him as he watched the Leighs until they were far from sight.
“Do you wish to be run over?” Sidney’s voice startled Malcolm, drawing his attention away from the distance as he stepped out of the way of the other drivers. “Am I to assume from that dumbstruck look on your face that your lovely Miss Leigh isn’t pleased with you?”
Malcolm blinked at that, uncertain of what to say because he couldn’t comprehend it himself. The way he’d imagined this evening’s ending was far from what had just happened, and he couldn’t quite get his mind to accept this shift in expectation.
“She seemed genuinely upset with me,” he murmured with a frown.
“It’s almost as though ladies do not care for lies,” replied Sidney in a snide tone.
Malcolm’s gaze jerked to his friend, and though he softened his words with a smile, the fellow looked utterly unrepentant.
“Do not worry so,” added Sidney. “A gift or two will soften her up. Miss Leigh will forgive you. She is simply being coy. I cannot imagine you doing anything horrid enough to convince her to release you now that you’re fully hooked by her charms.”
Sidney clapped him on the shoulder and led him into the house, but Malcolm couldn’t help but look over his shoulder, though Miss Leigh was long out of sight. His heart sank as it replayed the flint in her gaze and the sharpness to her tone.
“I am not so certain of that, Sidney.”
Chapter 16
The view from Whitley Court was not as fine as that from Prudence’s parlor. Most considered a street-front view as being inferior and common, but Whitley Court boasted nothing on that side of the building. Only a long stretch of gravel and a wall separated them from the roadway, and neither was particularly interesting to see.
So, Rosanna had nothing to look at as she stared out the windows facing that side of the house. Occasionally, someone walked along the road, passing by their drive, but those brief flashes of movement were hardly as interesting as watching Greater Edgerton moving to and fro like she could at Prudence’s townhouse.
Of course, there were the gardens at the back of Whitley Court, but those were only seen from the drawing room. Rosanna didn’t want to stare at flowers and shrubs, or at least what was left of them now that autumn was sending most of the greenery to sleep for the winter; people were far more interesting. Her gaze drifted across the expanse of nothing, stopping on movement at the opening of the drive.
Was someone coming down the drive?
She paused at that thought and straightened. Turning away, she moved to the other side of the room and crossed her arms. She was not going to gaze out the window like some lovelorn damsel; the prince in her story was unworthy of the title. Heroes didn’t lie and scheme.
With a heavy sigh, Rosanna wandered the room. As grateful as she was that Prudence had found her Parker, she couldn’t help but wish her sister was at home. This was just the sort of issue that required her elder sister’s insight and clear thinking. Despite having been at the masquerade last night, Prudence knew nothing of what had occurred between Rosanna and Mr. Malcolm.
Mr. Tate.
Rosanna huffed at herself for the slip. He wasn’t Mr. Malcolm. There was no Mr. Malcolm.
Regardless, Prudence had been too occupied with assisting her husband in his bid to ingratiate himself more into society; getting more clients for the physician had been their primary motive for attending, after all. Besides, it had been hardly the time or venue to have a proper discussion about Mr. Tate’s duplicity. Prudence hardly knew a thing about Mr. Malcolm in the first place, and that alone would require quite some time to explain.
Glancing at the clock on the side table, Rosanna calculated how long it would take to walk to Prudence’s home and the likelihood that she would be available. It wasn’t probable, but perhaps she should do so on the off chance the stars would align in her favor. For once.
Katherine sat at the piano, plunking away with more fervor than skill. Her brows were twisted together, and her spectacles slipped down her nose as she stared at the notes, her fingers feeling their way to the proper keys. Mostly. The noise was deafening at times, but at least with her playing clanging in the air, Mama was far less likely to join them here.
Unfortunately, it left Rosanna to suffer through it.
“Dearest, could you possibly play a touch quieter?” she asked.
Katherine stiffened in her seat, her hands pausing, and she glanced over her shoulder. “You could always go to another room,dearest. Unfortunately, I have no other option if I wish to practice.”
There was a hint of something hard and ugly when she said “dearest,” though Rosanna didn’t know why there would be.
Giving Katherine her gentlest smile, she said, “I understand, but surely you could play a little less forcefully.”
“It’s Beethoven,” she replied. “There is no other way to play it but forcefully.”
“You have been at it for nearly an hour already. Surely you could use a rest.”
Despite maintaining her rigid posture, Katherine’s shoulders fell, and she gathered the music from the piano and placed it in a neat stack on the shelves beside it.
